


A Hundred Arms, A Hundred Years

by odangoatama



Series: A Hundred Arms, A Hundred Years (Vampire Mermaid AU) [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odangoatama/pseuds/odangoatama
Summary: A vampire mermaid AU. After surviving a shipwreck caused by deadly sea creatures, a recovering Robin’s left to wonder why he was spared. He wasn’t left completely unscathed by them however, and he soon learns that one particular mermaid may not be finished with him after all. // outlaw queen.





	A Hundred Arms, A Hundred Years

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr, I decided to upload it here. Based on a post about mermaid monster hybrids (including vampire mermaids).

He wasn’t prepared for the fall off the ship. His mind was still trying to fight off the lingering effects of the hypnotism when he felt the initial crash of (what was left of) the ship propel him into the deep, chilly waters. With the cold helping a bit to clear his head, the next thing on Robin’s mind is Roland.

He was still dazed when it happened, but he knows he saw Roland get pushed off the ship at some point after all the other men had started jumping off. And he knows what was waiting in the deep — the bloodthirsty creatures whose silhouettes he can vaguely make out now still moving around him in the distance — looking for more prey, he can only assume.

Most everyone has a general knowledge of the dangers of voyaging through the oceans. Mermaids are one of the mostly unavoidable risks one must always take when they travel through water. The odds are usually in man’s favor; the odds of falling trap to a group of bloodthirsty sea monsters aren’t all that high, though there are a number of variables that could tip the scales. How much time one spends in the middle of the ocean; what exactly they’re doing out there; the company they’re keeping.

This wasn’t a particularly long trip; a day and a half was the plan. Boarding with a crew of men Robin knew well enough to trust them taking him and his son to the small maritime kingdom where a few old friends lived, honestly the last thing he truly expected was a run-in with mermaids.

He needs to find Roland, can’t fathom the mere idea of already having lost him. But he can’t manage to move his limbs, and he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean. The lack of oxygen is starting to become too much, and it’s not helped in the least by the throbbing pain of a blow to the head he can’t remember taking. His vision’s getting spotty, and that’s when the panic sets in.  _Roland_. He opens his mouth on accident, but the rush of water into his lungs barely gets acknowledged as his vision goes dark and he slips further out of consciousness.

The last thing he registers is the vague feeling of moving upwards before he blacks out.

...

It was the boy, she’s not afraid to admit. The boy had doomed her plans from the moment she’d seen him in the arms of his father, a dimpled little smile on his face. She can’t help it. Everyone’s got their preferences, and their dislikes. And it’s her personal decision to leave human children off her menu. She’s got a soft spot for them, their cuteness and pure innocence. She’d liken it to humans’ general weak spot for dogs.

The group she was out hunting with today either didn’t notice the boy or didn’t share her views. Probably both. She didn’t have time to consider backing out when everyone started singing, and she’d watched in abject horror as her companions’ lilting voices slowly reached the little boy’s ears. She’d watched his face glaze over as the effects took place, and he’d started making his way to the side of the ship, looking for a way to climb up off the ledge.

As the ship had moved closer, everyone had moved to meet it, Regina following behind with a growing sense of dread. The rocks weren’t far at that point, and the ship was headed full speed towards them. Not that they seemed all that needed, as a good number of men were already making their way up on the ledges of the ship, ready to jump. The mermaids had kept singing, still a good enough distance away to safely keep their heads above water without the men getting a good view of them. It’s a silent rule most every mermaid knew to follow, as humans could be clever, and they could pay the price — wait till they were in the waters.

When the first men had met the icy dark waters, the mermaids had darted forward. Their singing had stopped, but it was too late to stop the ship from colliding into the waiting rocks. Anyone who hadn’t yet jumped would soon meet their fate with the ocean. With them.

When Regina watched the boy stumble through a gap of the ledge on deck, she was already hurtling forward before she registered that she was going to catch him. She was going to save him. She’d reached the boat just in time keep the boy’s head from going underwater when he landed. Cradling him against her body (he was shivering, why were humans so fragile?), she’d wasted no time moving away from the impending wreckage, though where she was taking the boy she had no idea (to the shore? she’d have to wait till all her companions left the scene). The smell of fresh blood, diluted in the salty water had wafted all around her, distracting her for a minute until the boy had mumbled into her neck: “Papa.”

Guilt had hit her then. She hadn’t seen what had happened to the boy’s father. Had he jumped?

“Papa,” it was more of a cry that time, and it was with resignation that Regina had started moving towards the rocks, out of the way of the ship. Her occupied arms and the need to keep the boy’s head above water had made her pace slower than usual, much to her frustration.

Moving along the side and then into the cluster of rocks was a small cave, hidden away enough that Regina had more or less trusted it would be a safe place to deposit the boy in the meantime. When the water in the cave grew too shallow for her to keep moving, she’d urged the boy out of her arms and onto land. He’d looked at her with wide eyes, eyes that were already starting to brim up with tears, and Regina had lifted a finger to her lips, signaling for him to keep quiet.

“Papa,” the boy had said again, imploringly. Regina hadn’t known whether it was wise to say anything, for there was a very strong chance the boy’s father was already dead.

“Quiet,” she’d whispered softly to him. Then she’d submerged herself back into the waters, moving as fast as she could back to where the ship had already hit the rocks.

And now? Now she’s tearing almost desperately through the waters, passing by mermaid after mermaid, most of which seem to have had their share of blood for the meantime. She tries not to let the bloodlust get to her, though she feels a twinge of envy that she’ll have to go find another opportunity for a meal later on.

She moves down deeper, dread edging back into her at the most likely prospect of having to go back to the boy and tell him his father’s gone. Because of her. She’s trying to find the best words to use to sooth the boy when she sees it, in the distance, the sinking body of the man she’s sure is the boy’s father, his familiar sandy blond hair waving slightly in the dark water as he continues his descent. She rushes forward, is just about to reach him when she sees a rush of bubbled water rush away from his mouth.

She moves under him, placing her hands beneath his underarms to pull him forward. He’s not heavy, not to her, and not under the water, but the speed that she’s moving at to reach the surface seems much longer than she thinks it should be. She feels a lifetime pass by the time her head breaks through to the surface, his following. He’s unconscious, but not dead, not yet, she doesn’t think, so she struggles to move him toward the shore. She knows better than to try to go back for the boy, an impossible feat so long as this man is as out as he seems.

The sun is setting by the time she reaches the shore. She’s more tired than she should be, and she knows it’s from not having fed earlier, not having fed since five days ago. Gods above, she is  _starving_. She dumps the man on the shore, dragging her tail as far as she can to keep him out of the water’s reach.

She thinks he’s still alive, but he doesn’t move an inch after she deposits him on the sandy ground. He got a lot of water in his body, she’d watched it happen. She opens his mouth, not knowing any other way to try to help than to try to summon the water out of him, and she really hopes she’s not wasting her time (the boy, she has to go back for the boy). Feeling slightly ridiculous trying to summon water from inside a human’s body, she’s about to give up after a few moments when she feels the stirring of the water in him.

A small wave of optimism hitting her, she keeps going, tries to envision the water moving up, out of his lungs and through the man’s throat and —

A huge cough of water comes out of the man’s mouth has Regina moving back reactively. She watches as he continues to cough, his eyes finally half-open as he rolls to his side to let the rest of the water in his system out.

He’s alive. He’s alive, and the slight hint of color coming back to his skin reminds Regina that  _damn it_ , she is starving. She’s starving, and there’s a little boy trapped in a cave that she has to go retrieve — for what was the point in saving this man if the boy’s not okay, if they don’t walk away from this together. But she doesn’t have the strength to go back, and even she did, the unavoidable lingering scent of blood she’ll pass on the way to the cave will drive her mad enough that she’s not sure she’ll bring the boy back in one piece.

The man’s cough start calming down, but his eyes are still glazed over. Regina takes in a breath, bracing herself for only available option. She moves herself over the man, who stops his groggy fidgeting at the soft weight of her upper body on his. Gripping his hair (the man winces at that, but she’s too far gone in her thirst to wonder why), she angles his head till his jugular is exposed, and then she sinks her teeth in.

...

_Papa. Papa._

The voice is soft, but it still sends a shot of pain through his skull that causes Robin to wince. And that sends a jolt of pain through — well, everything else, and he groans hoarsely. His head is pounding, his throat sore, and all his limbs feel useless. But for all that he aches, Robin’s got the odd impression that he’s more comfortable than he was expecting to be as he comes to.

The bumpy ground he was expecting to feel against his back is much softer, and the sounds of crashing waves and breaking wood have disappeared. He struggles to recall what last happened, remembers standing on the ship, holding Roland in his arms. He remembers setting him down, talking to a member of the crew about the light fog growing in the distance. He remembers chaos after that. The bewitching tune that hummed through the air, the overwhelming pull to find the source of it out in the ocean. He remembers Roland falling off the ship.

_Papa._

Robin’s eyes finally open, and he stares blearily at whom he slowly realizes is his son. Alive and well. Robin starts making out the smile that spreads across the boy’s face as his vision clears, and he smiles reflexively in return.

“Papa!” Roland throws himself across Robin’s torso, and Robin tries to hold back a painful groan of protest.

He can’t bring his arms around his son, much to his dismay, but he manages a rasping, “Easy, my boy.”

“Roland, be careful with your father, he’s still hurt.”

Robin turns his head towards the familiar voice, and another smile stretches his lips when he sees a very relieved-looking Mary Margaret standing by the doorway of what he now recognizes as a room in the Blanchard manor. She grins in return, stepping quietly into the room and closing the door.

“The doctor left a little while ago,” she says, gently urging Roland off of him. She sits carefully on the edge of the bed, holding Roland in her lap. “He treated all that he could, and said we just had to wait. You scared us all half to death.” She sighs, relief still lighting up her hazel eyes.

Robin shifts, trying to move to sit up, but the wave of pain that hits his shoulders has him settling back into the mattress.

“How’d we get here?” His throat aches and burns, and he coughs painfully, sending more jolts of agony through the rest of his aching body, and the side of his neck starts throbbing. Roland struggles out of Mary Margaret’s hold and he crawls to Robin’s side, while Mary Margaret stands to hover over him in worry. He sends her a shaky smile when his coughs die down, waving her off kindly when she offers him the glass of water on the nightstand next to him.

She sits back down after a moment, the concern not leaving her eyes as she finally answers him.

“You’re lucky Mr. Smee always does a final sweep of the shore before turning in for the night — who knew his paranoia would one day be useful.” She shakes her head. “He heard Roland calling out for help and found you half dead by a cluster of rocks. He swears if he’d gotten there any later the tide would’ve carried you both off.” She sighs in exasperation of the old man’s antics, but Robin sees the edge of worry in Mary Margaret’s eyes, and he feels a twinge of guilt for having frightened her.

She continued, “He recognized you, and he called for my father. He’s out now, with the rest of the sailors and the guard dealing with what happened…” she trails off, her eyes shifting quickly away from his, and settling on a point near his chin.

His brow furrows, but she rushes on before he can ask anything. “The doctor said you should be fine, but you’re to stay in bed for the next couple of days. He’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

“They found no one else?” As soon as the question’s out Robin knows the answer. He remembers seeing all of the men jumping off the ship and into the ocean. He remembers pushing his way through to follow them.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “They made another sweep of the beach, but it’s late. And sailing’s out of the question, at least for the rest of the night. I don’t think the guard’s willing to go voyaging very far after this for the next few days either…” She shakes her head again, then changes the subject with a question. “How did you make it to shore?” she asks incredulously.

Robin’s slow to answer, and Roland pipes up, “The mermaid.”

Robin looks down at the boy resting on his chest in surprise. “What?” he asks dumbly.

“The mermaid, she helped,” Roland answers, toying with his fingers.

Robin looks at Mary Margaret, who looks unsurprised. “He told me the same thing when they brought you here,” she says quietly, meeting his gaze. “I just wanted to know whether you remembered…?”

A blurry memory flashes through his head, of dark hair, and torturing coughs of water. He fights back a shudder. “If I remember a mermaid saving us?” he questions dubiously.

Mary Margaret shrugs. “I don’t know,” is all she says in reply. Her gaze falls downward again, and this time his hand reaches up to follow where she’s staring. It falls on a tender spot on his neck, and it throbs at the contact. He tenses.

Mary Margaret grimaces at his reaction. “Doctor Whale said it was best to leave the bite alone for the night, so long as it wasn’t bleeding, or it wouldn’t let you rest,” she says softly. “He said he’d bring some salve for it in the morning and cover it up.”

Robin’s all too aware of the bite now, the dull throbbing now the main ache on his mind, and he struggles to remember receiving it. He remembers the blinding light of the sun setting on the horizon, a dark curtain of wet hair shifting to block the view…

He feels Roland shift against his side. “She was nice, Papa,” he says. “She saved us from the ocean.”

Mary Margaret stays silent, arching an eyebrow when Robin looks back to her.

“I suppose she did,” he answers softly.


End file.
